


i found God, i found her in a lover

by pmcculers



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, First Time, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4570293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pmcculers/pseuds/pmcculers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>peggy and angie have known each other their whole lives,  but only in their junior year in high-school they go from best friends to girlfriends.</p><p>three months into their relationship, their first time together turns out to be a bit of a bumpy ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i found God, i found her in a lover

**Author's Note:**

> this was just supposed to be a smutty thing, but then i had lots of feelings and it turned into an almost full history, i have absolute no control.
> 
> if anyone wants to know more details about anything or would like for me to writer another chapter detailing something it was mentioned here, please feel free to ask. i might be in the mood to do it :)
> 
> as always, feel free to come talk to me @ paigemcculers on tumblr or @pmcculers on twitter if you want :)

It’s been three months.

Three months since you’ve been officially dating Angie Martinelli, president of the Drama Club and Captain of the varsity Volleyball Team – the team in school with the most awards in the last three years, right after the Debate Team you proudly lead.

You’ve known each other since elementary school, where you became inseparable after Angie offered to share her crayons and coloring pencils with you when you arrived late on the first day because of your father. Throughout the first week, she’d glare with those striking, huge blue eyes and raise her lanky arms threateningly at anyone who dared make fun of you because of the English accent you had picked up from your grandmother and insisted on using as a reminder of your dead mother.

Entering middle school, you fell into different paths and groups as you joined different clubs. You watched from afar as scrawny, adorable, clumsy Angie began to turn into a teenage-girl with a full, toned body, thanks to volleyball training, and with an equally full and loud personality, courtesy of the new ways of expressing herself she found in Drama Club – you remember wishing with every fiber of your being that you were as close as you used to be.

13-year-old Angie Martinelli made you realize for the first time that you were attracted to girls.

High-school came and your groups of friends began to intersect and you had almost every single AP class with Angie. You picked your friendship back up like you had never lost touch. Intercalating between spending the weekend at your house and hers, you were caught up on each other’s lives in no time. Listening to your father’s absentmindedly sexist remarks was way less terrible when Angie began to spend the weekends because, before you could even muster up the energy to berate him, she was already on a full rant, telling him how insulting the way he expressed himself was and explaining exactly what was wrong with his mentality.

Your crush on her grew immeasurably after the first time she did it and he genuinely apologized. Your brother has yet to stop teasing you about how enamored you looked that day.

On your first day back at Angie’s house, you were received with open arms by her mom and her _nonna_. Her father was away, driving his truck to the other side of the state to make a delivery, as you found out later he was more often than not. Her brother had stayed at college that weekend since he had been home the one before, and you met her 4-year-old sister, Giulia, for the first time.  You two had a bumpy start, the little girl glared unwaveringly at you for almost five whole minutes as her family fussed over you, until you tripped over their fleeing cat on your way to greet her. She giggled adorably, jumped into your arms and stayed glued to your side for the rest of the weekend.

It was a fight every weekend at Angie’s house after that for the two of you to spend any time without the little girl. She reminded you too much of little Angie and you found it hard to ever deny her anything she wanted.

In the summer between freshman and sophomore year, you were the first person Angie told she thought she might be a lesbian.

You told her you were quite certain you were bisexual.

For the first half of sophomore year you dated a sweetheart named Steve, who Angie tolerated even if she insisted at any given opportunity that you deserved better. _He’s just too damn nice and sweet to hate, but you’re too much for him, English_ , she would say.

(She used to call you English when you were younger in the sweetest and most protective way and it’s the only reason you still let her do it in high-school. None of your friends ever even tried to use the nickname after you glared heavily at their raised eyebrows when they heard Angie using it for the first time.)

Steve was still small and a bit scrawny and you had already grown to your full height, along with bigger than average boobs and thunder thighs. You made an odd pair, but he was the perfect first boyfriend.

He was also the first person you ever had sex with and, for some reason, it made Angie change her mind about the whole hating-him thing until you two broke up before winter break. After that the three of you became great friends. 

Halfway through the second semester of sophomore year, Angie had her first girlfriend, Linda, from her volleyball team. You despised Linda with every fiber of your being, even if you could never explain exactly why when asked by any of your friends. She was gorgeous, smart with a witty tongue and treated Angie with the utmost respect.

You hated her guts, but were supportive. You knew how important her first girlfriend was to Angie.

Two weeks after Angie told you about Linda, you started to date one of your brother’s friends, a senior girl. Angie hated Dottie in a way she had never hated Steve, and Dottie hated her right back. She was an extremely sensual and assertive girl, who was borderline rude most of the time and who knew exactly how hot she was. She was the exact opposite of Angie and exactly what you wanted for a first girlfriend.

You and Angie came out to your families and friends together. You ignored the way your heart jumped tellingly every time the stating of your sexualities was followed by, _so you guys are dating?_ , and the disappointed faces when you both frantically negated it – your brother’s and _nonna_ Angelica’s faces were the hardest to ignore.

Dottie broke up with you in the last day of school and you weren’t even slightly sad. She would graduate in a few days and you knew it was coming. Angie and Linda broke up on the second week of summer because Linda was moving to the other side of the country with her family. Angie was heartbroken and you tried everything you could think of to make her feel better. It turned out that her comfort was your misery. After being with Dottie and realizing how amazing it is to be with a girl, cuddling and touching and being close to Angie became much more difficult, and you had to finally admit to yourself that your crush on your best friend had not ceased to exist in the last two years, as hard as you tried to ignore it.

Throughout that summer, you tried to convince Angie to go to one of the thousand parties you were both invited to, but she would either convince you instead to stay in, cuddle and watch TV shows or that you go alone. Those blue, puppy-dog eyes and her pout were the easiest way in the world to disarm you.

The first party she agreed to go to, a week into your junior year, you only drank water and stayed glued to her side, watching attentively as Angie got drunk off her ass and became more touchy with you than you were able to deal with while having no alcohol in your system. Later, you took her to your house, held back her hair as she puked on your toilet and tucked her in, letting her cuddle into you more closely than she ever had. The next day you got her through her first hangover and she swore off parties.

Friday night parties became part of your weekend tradition and as Angie learned to pace herself you began to drink with her.

Every single party, you were both invited to play Spin the Bottle or Seven Minutes in Heaven, but you declined the invitations as quickly as you could every time and usually led Angie towards Beer Pong – she was freakishly good at it and it was fun to see the boys scowling as she entered the line.

Until the Sunday night party that declared the beginning of winter break, where everything changed.

Before you could decline an invitation for Spin the Bottle, Angie was agreeing to it and pulling you towards the circle in one of your friends’ living room. You watched grumpily as a few girls, including one from your Debate Team, tried to full on make out with Angie, and as Angie pulled away from boys who tried to get more than a peck from her with a disgusted face. No girl or boy was able to get more than an uninterested peck from you that night to the point that people would groan unhappily when the bottle landed on you. You had thought the weirdest part of the night would be when Steve, with his hands politely placed at his own knees, was the one boy who got the tiniest bit more than a peck from Angie and the way they both smiled warmly at each other as they pulled away.

But then the bottle landed on you on Angie’s turn. And Angie had smiled, happily turned towards you and planted a lingering peck on your lips before giggling and bouncing back to her spot. Your brain had stayed short-circuited for the rest of the game because Angie had kissed you and you had barely been able to enjoy the briefness of it, and you’d probably never get the chance to again. That thought came to bite you in the ass when a few moments later someone suggested Seven Minutes in Heaven; you had been ready to decline playing it until you were paired up with Angie. That second time Angie had not bounced happily or giggled, she had looked rather serious as she grabbed your hand and pulled you over to the closet. As soon as the door closed, you tried to give her an out, telling her she absolutely did not need to do anything, but she just stared intently at you before pushing a hand into your hair and pulling you into a kiss. You had ended up pressed against the door, her hands in your hair and face, and yours around her waist, and you had kissed and kissed until someone knocked on the door. As you pulled away a soft, _I’ve wanted to do this for so long_ , escaped your lips before your brain could catch up and filter the words. You had stared at her wide-eyed and terrified, but Angie had just smiled, pecked your lips and pulled you out from the closet.

That night Steve took each of you to your own houses and you proceeded to avoid Angie like the plague. You got away with one full week and even part of the weekend, until Sunday morning came around and Angie was knocking at your bedroom door. After she yelled at you for about ten minutes, you talked about everything; your feelings and how long exactly did ‘so long’ mean and where Angie stood with her own feelings. That day she agreed to let you take her out on a date and you agreed that you’d take things slow.

That was three months ago and now here you are in your bedroom, in your empty house, Angie lying on top of you and your hands gripping her back tightly as she kisses you hungrily.

And the two of you are about to have sex for the first time.

You had picked Angie from her volleyball practice and brought her back to your house about an hour ago. She had showered, changed into a sports bra and boyshorts, and you had been lazily making out in your bed when she whispered against your lips that she was ready and wanted to have sex. After you asked for the third time if she was a hundred percent certain, she just laughed, pushed you back against the mattress and kissed you.

You’ve had sex before many times, with Steve, with Dottie and with a few one-night stands, but the idea of it has never made you as nervous and excited as you feel in this moment, your hands trailing down Angie’s toned back to grab her ass and pull her closer to your body. A little, low whine sounds from the back of her throat and you can’t help but smile against her lips. It earns you a harsh tug on your hair and pointy teeth sinking on your bottom lip and it makes you groan loudly – you store the reaction away in your mind so you can elicit it again later.

 Angie starts trailing kisses down your neck as she shifts her hips, pressing one of her thighs directly against your underwear-covered center. You take in a shuddering breath and it’s her turn to smile against your neck. Using the leg that’s not trapped between hers, you roll over, positioning yourself on top of her, your legs intertwined. Angie smiles up at you and your heart stutters a beat at the sight of her; hair sprawled over the pillow, looking up at you like you’re the most important person in her life. She often gets that look on her face and it never fails to make your stomach turn pleasantly.

Grabbing one of Angie’s hands and interlacing your fingers, you lean down to give her a soft, long kiss before trailing your lips down her neck and to her prominent collarbone. You close your lips around the skin just below the bone and suck. Angie’s free hand flies up to grip at your hair and a quiet moan leaves her lips before she starts panting softly. You trail your lips over her chest and nip at the parts of her breasts that are left exposed by the sports bra until you decide that it needs to go. Shifting until you’re straddling Angie’s thighs, you grab her forearms and help her up into a sitting position. Using the hand still tangled in your hair, she pulls you into another hungry kiss, like she can’t stand to have her lips separated from yours for too long – in the last three months you’ve found out Angie is a huge fan of kissing, _huge_. Middle kiss, she sneaks her hands under your loose t-shirt and tugs it up. You pull away with raised eyebrows, but Angie just grins and tugs at it again, prompting you to raise your arms so she can pull it off. Once the garment is off, she stares unabashedly for a full minute before cupping your breasts and attaching her lips to your neck. You grab a hold of her waist and you can feel the way her whole body shivers when you breathe a moan against her ear after she nips at the skin behind your ear. When you run your hands up her sides slowly until you reach the hem of her sports bra, Angie pulls away, panting against your lips, and, as you lock your eyes with her sparkling ones, she nods with a wide grin.

After taking it off, you keep your eyes locked as you cup both her breasts, your thumbs making slow circles around her nipples. Angie’s eyes flicker shut and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth; you feel your underwear getting wetter at her ecstatic face. Placing a hand on her back, you slow her back down into the bed. You peck her lips before inching back down towards her chest. You’ve seen Angie completely topless before and the two of you had definitely played around second-base, but this feels different. You always want to make her feel good, but this time you want to even more.

As soon as you wrap your lips around her left nipple, Angie’s back rises slightly from the bed and one of her hands grabs at the bed sheet. Her mouth falls open when you run your tongue over her nipple at the same time you press a hand against her stomach to keep her down. You trace your fingers over the muscles of her abs while working from one breast to another, and choked, panted breaths keep leaving her lips. As you’re trailing your lips down her torso, Angie’s hand tangles on your hair again and she pulls softly. With your lips still connected to her skin, you look up to find her with her eyes closed, mouth hanging open while soft, little whines sound from the back of her throat, urging you to keep going.

Instead, you rack your teeth over her belly-button and smile up at Angie when she shrieks and a high-pitched giggle leaves her lips in between her panting. Smiling back down at you brightly, she cups your face and runs her thumb over your cheekbone. You turn your head and kiss the palm of her hand before slipping a finger under the hem of her boyshorts and tugging at it. Angie hesitates for a beat before nodding slowly. You try to smile reassuringly at her as your own stomach twists in knots.

“If at any moment you want me to stop, you tell me.” You wait until her face relaxes and she nods again before slowly pulling her boyshorts down, your eyes unwaveringly locked into hers.

As soon as you slip the underwear through her feet, you pat around the mattress until you find her right hand and grab it tightly. You wait until she squeezes back before you lean down to plant a kiss against her ankle and start your trail up her leg. When you reach the inside of her knee, Angie’s panting gets louder and heavier and you squeeze her hand in reassurance, but continue on. However, as you nip your way through her inner-thigh she starts wheezing and squeezes your hand with a breaking grip.

“Darling, are yo-“ You look up to find Angie staring at you wide-eyed, the hand that’s not trying to break yours rubbing at her sternum as the wheezing gets more frantic as she tries to pull some air into her lungs. Startled, you jump from your position in between her legs and scramble to go kneel by her side. “Angie! What’s happening? What do I do?” Your hands hover over her body uselessly as you will your brain to kick back in. The context is new, but you’re certain the situation is not. The difficulty to breathe, the chest rubbing, even Angie’s terrified expression as she tries to get words out, even though her lungs are empty; it all feels very familiar.

Asthma attack.  Angie’s asthmatic, your brain kicks in.

“Angie, please tell me you have your inhaler with you,” you plead, cupping her cheek softly. She nods frantically as relief washes over her face. She points at her duffel bag slung over your desk-chair and you place another pillow under her head to propel her up, and try and clear her airway a bit, before scrambling towards it.

Cursing at every new thing you pull from her duffel bag that is _not_ her inhaler – the top and shorts she uses as pajamas, a dress, underwear, textbooks, notebooks and one too many pair of socks -, when you finally get to the bottom and find the inhaler tucked into a corner, you almost think about sending a prayer up above.  Instead, you rush back to her side and hand her the inhaler before helping her sit up.  As soon as she is upright, you slip between her body and the headboard of your bed and pull her back against your front. You feel it on your chest when Angie breathes from her inhaler once and then again a minute later. When she finally manages to breathe on her own, she slumps back against your body and you wrap your arms tightly around her.

The only other time you remember feeling this scared was when Angie sprained her ankle in the middle of a match last year. She was crying so hard when they carried her to the bench that you were afraid something worst had happened. It turned out she was crying because she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to playing that match, not because the injury hurt that bad. At the memory, you can’t help the laugh that bursts through your lips and Angie turns around in your arms to look at you with furrowed brows.

“Shite, you scared the crap outta me,” you mumble against her cheek as you pull her even closer. At her softly whispered, _Sorry_ , you place a lingering kiss on her cheek before saying, “I don’t remember you having one of those since you were nine.”

“It hasn’t happened since eighth grade,” she mumbles and her cheeks turn a pretty pink tone. “It’s just when I’m really nervous or sometimes when I try new…activities for the first time.”

“Which was it this time?” you ask softly, tracing your fingers soothingly over her arms.

“Both, probably,” she admits, shooting you a guilty look, “I really wanted to- I really _want_ to have sex with you, but I’m _really_ nervous.” You place another kiss on her cheek before pressing your forehead against hers and nudging her nose softly with yours.

“It’s ok. I _really_ want to as well and I’m really nervous, too,” you breathe against her lips. “But it’s a good nervous. Is yours the bad kind?” Angie hesitates for a second and her cheeks and the tip of her ears flush a deeper color.

“Not really, just a “I can’t wait to feel all the things you’re gonna make me feel and then return the favor” kind of nervous.” At your wide smile, she rolls her eyes. “Not that it matters, as mood-killers go having an asthma attack is probably pretty high up there.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes before you press your face into her neck and rack your teeth through her pulse point.

“I can’t speak for you, but _my_ mood is very much alive.” A shuddering breath leaves Angie’s lips as yours make their way up to her jaw. “The way I see it, you’re alright now; still very much naked and so, _so_ hot.” Your right hand settles over stomach as the left one cups a breast eagerly. “If you still feel like it, we can pick it right up from where we stopped,” you mumble against her ear before taking her earlobe into your mouth.

“Ye-yeah?” she pants, reaching up to tangle a hand into your hair, “I’d really, _really_ like that.”

Smirking widely at how quickly Angie’s gone right back to the flustered state she was in before, you trail the hand that was cupping her breast up her shoulder and then down her arm until you can grab her inhaler from her hand.

“We’ll just leave this here,” you say, placing the inhaler on your nightstand, “and if you need it again, we’ll just stop and you can reach it. Yeah?” you ask as you slowly - almost torturously so – inch your hand down her stomach until you can feel the pubic hair above her center.

“Yeah!” Angie basically yelps and you muffle a chuckle against her neck. “That sounds super, yes, great,” she rambles before tugging you by the hair into a sloppy, messy kiss. When you laugh against her lips, she pulls firmly on your hair as she sinks her teeth on your bottom lip in a harsh bite.

Angie moans quietly when your fingers finally find her clit and circle it a few times, and then whines on the back of her throat when you refuse to maintain the contact, instead making wide circles around it and only occasionally touching it directly. By the way she keeps making low noises while also insisting on keeping your lips glued, you figure it’s a fair guess that she won’t be in need of her inhaler again today.


End file.
